What Am I Going to Do?
by awalkingenigma
Summary: Repost. YAOI SoRiku. My writing style has changed since I first posted this story, so i changed according to my style. Again To be honest, I don't know where this story is going to take them, but please read and comment. Tell me your thoughts.


Everything has a beginning

_Everything has a beginning. _

Mine started 17 years ago, when I was born. Things were different then. Well, at least from what I can tell they were different. The only things I have from back then are pictures 'cause, who can remember when they're born? Not me. Anyway! The first picture that was ever taken of me was with my father, he was holding me. He has the same blue eyes as I do. They're wide, circular, and from what people say "they're really fucking blue." He also has the same facial structure—I guess I'm the clone of my dad. The only difference between the two of us is the hair color—that I guess I got from my mom; my hair is like a light brown, almost like cinnamon. My father's hair was blond. That picture is all I have of my father, it's the only "memory" I have of him. Oh my! Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! I tend to ramble and rant a lot. Geez! I'm such an idiot! Here I am going on and on about my problems and you don't even know my name. I'm Sora. There! Now you know my name, so can I tell you my problems now? GAH!! I can't wait for your response! If I don't get this off my chest, I'll explode!!

You see, all my life, I've felt as if I were different than any other boy, and yes I do realize that I have a girl's name and no, that's not why I feel different. How should I put this? Okay, plain and simple, I'm gay. No, not gay as in the happy way. The gay that kids, including me, get beat up for, the "I-like-hot-man-on-man-action" gay. Yep, that gay. The friends I've told, well, some of them think it's just a phase, that all boys like to experiment with other boys as part of puberty, but I can't see this, attraction I have, as something that's going to pass. I can't even tell my mom. I'm scared she'll throw me out, disown me, or worse, kill me. Now don't get me wrong, my mom is very loving, I just don't know how she would respond to it, and frankly, I don't want to find out. She always speaks so highly of me, how I'm her pride and joy, how I'm going to get married to my girlfriend and have kids with her. I didn't mention that? Well, I have a girlfriend. Calm down, it's not as if she _doesn't_ know I'm gay, she's the first person I told actually. If my school were more accepting I wouldn't need her, but in order to stop the rumors—and the beatings—I had to get a girlfriend so it was only natural to pick one of my best friends, Kiari. We've been close since we were kids. But, hah, that's not even the half of it.

The rest of the story is, I'm in love with someone. He's beautiful. The most beautiful person I've ever met. He walks so graciously, like a dancer, but there's more to it than that. It's the way he smiles; those pearl white teeth could blind anyone, and blind me almost everyday. Oh, blindness reminds me of his eyes, his blue, no green, no, aquamarine eyes are soul piercing. The way he looks at me, it feels like he can peer right into my soul, like I can't hide from him. The way he talks in a sweet, sometimes sarcastic but always smooth, baritone voice. Did I mention his body? I don't know how he got it, he's never worked out a day in his life, but he's so built. Then there's his hair. It's silver, like platintum with maybe a twinge of purple in it, and it's long, I can imagine myself running my fingers through his long oddly hued hair. If you think that's bad, you haven't even heard the worst of it: he's my best friend.

We got into a fight today, not me and him, but him and a couple of people who started a rumor about me. We both got pretty dinged up but don't worry; my boyfriend beat them to a pulp.Geez, I'm a mess, I'm calling him my boyfriend, and he's not even gay; he's the straightest guy I know, there isn't a gay bone in him. I wonder how he's feeling, I had better check up on him afterall, he wouldn't have gotten hurt if it wasn't for me. Eh, I don't feel like walking over to his house, I'll just see if he's online.


End file.
